


The year is 1015

by FinduilasLissesul



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood, Canon Universe, Fighting, Gen, Historical Hetalia, Viking Age, Vikings, battles, mild violence, some historical figures - Freeform, that I enjoyed writing a bit too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinduilasLissesul/pseuds/FinduilasLissesul
Summary: War lies ahead as they pull up on green shores and a victory seems not far from reach.After many years of peace and tranquility, Norway answers Denmark's call to battle.The year is 1015 and Denmark and Norway are on their way to claim rule over England.
Relationships: Denmark & Norway (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Nordictalia Secret Santa





	The year is 1015

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfworldstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfworldstars/gifts).



The dark waves of the deep sea splashed against the sides of the ship and a slight breeze brought drops of water flying as the water parted. The strong sails were stretched tight and carried the vessel closer and closer to shore, the sound of seagulls crying slowly growing louder. With a steady grip around the steering oar, Norway shifted his feet so that they were firmly planted against the hard wood below him. The smell of salt hung in the air, but as they closed in on the green land in the horizon, he could pick up the scent of fresh grass and fields. It was not the first time he had been there.

  
The grunts of the people onboard the ship as they were gearing up and preparing to hoist down the sail, were drowned out by not just the slashes against their ship, but also the other 350 ships of their fleet travelling with them. If anyone had stood at the shore at this very moment, they would have seen red and white sails covering the entire ocean and approaching fast. Norway veered the oar in his right hand a bit to the left, aiming for the soft sand of the beach. Even if his long blond hair had been tied up in braids, there were still a few loose ends that whipped around his face in the breeze from the sea. Looking out towards his right side, he could barely spot Denmark sitting down in another ship a few paces behind. As Norway travelled with his Earl, Denmark shared a boat with his young king. He could see them talking together at the bow of the ship, both looking eager and ready for what was to come. Norway drew a deep breath and let it out as he turned to look out ahead once more. This was it. Danish king Knut had come to finish what his father before him had begun; the conquering of England. And Norway was obligated to help.

  
The soft sand made way as the ships slid up onto the beach. While the warriors he had brought with him pulled down the sails and dragged the boats further up on the shore, Norway joined his leader in strolling over to the Danish fleet. A strategy was needed and Eirik, Earl of Lade, was a seasoned commander. His advice would certainly be crucial in this venture. The sand crunched under his leather shoes as they strode across the beach and the wind did not decrease its strength. They had yet to see any sign of the local settlements that they knew lay just behind the tufts of grass above them. Still, Prince Edmund was probably aware of their expected arrival and up north in the Danelagen to gather forces to face them, something that meant they had some time yet to choose their approach.

  
Up towards them from the other fleet came two familiar shapes. The red of their tunics was overshadowed by the shine of the chainmail glimmering in the daylight. Denmark still had that spring in his step and the freckles spread over the root of his nose and cheeks gave him a youthful look that the bright smile on his face did little to contradict. Both of the approaching figures raised a hand in greeting as they closed in and came to a stop. The other man was Knut, Denmark’s new king, stout and broad-chested with his dark blond hair cut at shoulder length, very much resembling his late father. Despite his age, he had already seen many a battle and had proven himself as a good warrior and was sure to be a great leader of his country.

  
“It is good to see you, Eirik son of Håkon! I am glad you and Norway are willing to come on this endeavour with us.” Knut’s smile was firm, but not forced, and the energy was genuine. Denmark did nothing to hide his own excitement and grinned widely at the Norsemen.

  
“Likewise, Knut son of Svein. Long we have journeyed from Lade and with me I have brought a great army to help in your cause.” Norway huffed at Eirik’s words. His leader was experienced and a clever strategist. He would not have sailed all this way if he did not think this mission possible, regardless of the deal he had made with Svein, Knut’s father. And Norway could feel his own finger itch to once again grip around a sword and hear the cries of battle. He had enjoyed many years of peace under the Eirik and the Earls of Lade, and now his body and mind longed to see blood be spilt yet again.

  
“Excellent! I would greatly appreciate your advice and counselling on several matters, if you would not mind.” Knut gestured towards his own fleet in a move to make the Earl walk with him. The older man nodded in acknowledgement and followed without any objections. Norway and Denmark stayed behind and let to the two leaders leave them.

  
“So, what do you think?” Denmark grinned at him, a certain sparkle in his eyes, betraying his apparent excitement.

  
“Well,” Norway turned to look out towards the sea and all their ships that lay dragged up on the shore, “I think you’ll have a better shot at it this time around, now that I’m here.”

  
“Ahh, come on!” Denmark lightly punched his shoulder and frowned playfully at him. “You don’t have to act all high and mighty over it.”

  
“Hmm, you really can’t do with out me, can you?” Norway raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at his friend.

  
“Don’t make me hit you again.” Denmark stuck his lower lip out in a pout, narrowing his eyes.

  
“In all honesty though,” he paused a second to take it all in. The warriors that littered the white beach, the loud sounds of talk and mail clanking against metal, the smell of the ocean. He gripped tight around the hilt fastened at his left side as a foreboding grin made its way onto his face. “I can’t wait to get started.”

* * *

Blood splattered everywhere and Norway felt the warm drops hit his face where the helmet had left him exposed as he chopped into the neck of the man in front of him. The limp body fell to the ground and Norway grunted when he used the back of his hand to dry the blood off his chin. He could feel the sweat make his hair cling to his forehead, stuck under the metal and leather that protected him. With all the grime and blood that had practically soaked him over the last few months, he almost didn’t notice it anymore. Around him there was smoke coming from houses they had set on fire and screams filled the air as those who were in no condition to fight fled the scene in an attempt to escape the fate that awaited them here. Norway stepped over the lifeless bundle that lay at his feet, brought his painted shield up to cover his front while he kept his sword ready as the next soldier came running with great speed up towards him. He braced himself for the impact and felt his feet slide back in the mud bath that the road through the small village had become. Still, he did not falter and relied heavily on his speed and efficiency to cut into the man that had attacked him. Another bloody corpse soon joined the others on what had become a battlefield.

  
Taking a breath of air, feeling the strain on his muscles after a good hour of fighting, Norway let his sword-arm fall at his side. The screams had died down, the people either long gone or already slain by his warriors. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a last struggle as Denmark planted his axe deep in the head of one of the Anglo-Saxons, the body twitch and fall limp only to twitch violently again as the victor removed his weapon. He had either forsaken or lost his helmet and the wild hair stood out in all directions, contributing to the overall feral look of the country.

  
Norway hoisted his beaten-up shield over his shoulder and begun cleaning the blood off his sword with the rim of his tunic while he made his way over to the other. The leather of his shoes splashed against the muddy road, the dirt coloured dark with the blood from the several bodies that lay about.

  
“Oi.” Norway’s low voice still managed to catch Denmark’s attention, the other raising his head and waving.

  
“Hi! How are you faring?” He shook his axe so that red drops flew about, before he proceeded to wipe the rest of on the brown tunic he was hearing below the chain-mail.

  
“We’ve had no problems so far. Wessex is done.” Norway eyed the sword closely before he deemed it clean enough and sheathed it in his belt. There was no one left here that would oppose them anymore.

  
“Great! We’re just breezing through this!”

  
“Don’t celebrate just yet.” Norway sighed as he removed the clammy helmet from his head and let his messy hair fall free. He could taste the ash and iron in his mouth as he breathed in the air. “It will only get worse from here on out. Prince Edmund is trying to gather his forces in London and by the time we reach him, we might be outnumbered. And then there’s Mercia and Northumbria to deal with as well.” He furrowed his brows in thought and brought a finger up to tap his chin.

  
“Ahh, you worry too much, Norway! We got this!” Denmark clenched his fist and used the other hand to grab the other country by his shoulder. “Between your brilliant strategy and my own incredible strength, there is no way England can beat us.”

  
“Urgh… you are way too confident in this, you know?”

  
Whatever Denmark was about to say next was interrupted by the shout of a young man that came running towards them. Denmark and Norway exchanged curious looks as the warrior slumped over to regain his breath once he reached them.

  
“Eadric, ealdorman of Mercia, has joined our forces! He brings with him the 40 ships we left behind last time and the soldiers of Mercia.”

  
“See!” Denmark cackled. “We got this!”

* * *

“We’re not getting through!” Norway gritted his teeth as the frustration of the situation steadily overwhelmed him. Their siege of London had from the start proven more difficult to secure than what they had expected. Even after taking Northumbria with ease and with all the trouble the former prince, now _King_ Edmund, had had with gathering his countrymen to fight, the city of London had so far been the hardest endeavour yet.

  
He paced about around the camp they had set up just west of the city, surrounded by wounded warriors and misery. Denmark was off somewhere with Knut and his own men, having left the siege to Eirik and Norway. This was useless. They had already lost a battle against Edmund before he had gone off again to re-group. Norway thought he had caught a glimpse of England there as well. Nothing about this situation was good for them. He swore at himself. He _knew_ Denmark’s endless optimism was unfounded. Pulling his dark blue cape closer around himself, Norway strode up the Earl’s tent and stepped inside.

  
“Eirik. We are not winning this.” The man sat on the ground on top of some blankets, turning around a piece of wood with his fingers, seemingly in deep thought. “They have dug dikes around the river and we’re not making any headway.”

  
“Yes, I know.” Eirik furrowed his brows, dark hair beginning to grey fell down to frame his face. “It would be best if we could get London. If we would manage that, it would be a guaranteed victory for us.” He rose from his spot and began to move towards the opening.

  
“We can’t keep this up, Eirik.”

  
“No, we can’t. It will not be easy and will take longer, but we need to rethink our approach. We will pull back for now.” As he pulled the flap of the tent away and stepped out, he left the piece of wood with Norway. Holding it up to examine, Norway could see the engraved runes and read their message. Eaodric of Mercia had abandoned them and gone back over to England’s side. With a huff Norway flung the piece back in the tent before he followed his leader. Things had just gone from bad to worse.

* * *

Norway stumbled as someone hit him with great force from behind. Securing the grip around his shield, he swung around and drove his sword into the side of his attacker. Another scream joined the rest filling the air around him along with the clashing sound of swords and axes hitting each other. The bloody taste was back in his mouth and Norway could feel a warm liquid running down the side of his torso. Above him, crows and ravens had gathered and occasionally let out a few hoarse screams. Shouting and grunts were all around him and Norway struggled to orient himself in the mass of warriors all about. He was exhausted. They had battled England’s forces for several hours already, as Edmund and his army had surprised them while they had retreated to their ships by the river, and they were just now seeing the end of it.

  
A sudden yell signalled a change in the battle, and at once the men they were fighting seemed to diminish considerably. Norway tried to gather his wits about the situation, struggling to locate his own leader in the chaos. After a lull in the fight in his immediate proximity, he could see that he was indeed not mistaken with his first observation. A large part of the opposing army had pulled away from the rest. Was this some sort of tactic to lure them into disbanding their ranks? Yet, as they kept slaying the soldiers that came at them, the fleeing forces did not return, leaving the Norsemen with an obvious majority on the field. The battle was won.

* * *

Norway was standing just behind his leader, a steady force in the conversation that took place. Just to their left was Knut and Denmark, confident as ever, although Norway could see that the battles had taken their toll on both of them. Still, England, who was standing opposite them looked even worse, a nasty gash running across his face and his bony shoulders slumped. It was a miracle he was even kept together at the moment. Unity had never been his strong side.

  
Eadric of Mercia had taken up the role as mediator in the negotiations, trying to make a deal that both Knut and Edmund would agree upon. It was him that had pulled his forces away from that last battle, allowing Denmark and Norway to crush their opponents. Surely this new role of his was his way of securing a part of the spoils for himself.

  
Edmund was not exactly elated by the turn of event and it was clear that he did not want to yield, set on keep fighting. Which was pretty admirable of him, but England looked dead tired. Norway was confident that they would get their demands through by this point – there really was no will to fight anymore left in the island nation. Although, a small part of him felt bad for England. This could potentially end up splitting him up forever. As a fellow nation he could understand the real fear of that, he himself had experience something similar throughout most of his own life, yet it had ended up working out in the end. Eventually, King Edmund was forced to resign his ownership of all the land north of the Thames and Knut then gave Northumbria to Eirik and kept Wessex for himself, while Eadric got Mercia.

  
After the deal was properly agreed upon and Edmund and England had left them, Eadric approached Knut with a pleased smile on his face and bowed before the king. Norway exchanged a sceptical look with Denmark. None of them had really taken up a liking to this mad that seemed to turn which ever way the wind blew.

  
“King Knut, must you live a long life, I gratulate you on a well-deserved victory on this day. And I feel inclined to remind the king of the help I provided and ultimately being the what tipped the scales in your favour.”

  
“Do you have a reason for reminding me of this?” Knut answered the man, a look of distaste on his face. “Or do you just wish to gloat?”

  
“My King, I cannot help but feel that I should be entitled to some more compensation for my and my men’s sacrifice in this battle. Surely someone like you would have wealth to share with your loyal servants.”

  
Knut only thought for a short moment before he addressed Eadric again, his eyes hard and expression steady.

  
“Would you, who paid your own master with betrayal, be faithful to me? I will pay you what you have earned.” With this, he waved Earl Eirik over to his side. “Pay this man what we owe him!”

  
The older man did not hesitate. He stepped up Eadric, and Norway could see the surprise followed by horror that painted itself on the face of the other man as he watched Eirik raise his axe. Then, it was all over as the head hit the grass and blood splattered. Norway suppressed a chuckle at the spectacle and when he looked up, his eye connected with those of England at the other side of the clearing. The other nation just looked at him blankly and Norway just gave a sly smirk and bowed his head. The war was over now. They had won.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delay! Hope you liked it regardless ~


End file.
